Chain a blog by Jeff Barnes

Shanghai is also our first sighting of large numbers of Westerners again. This is the entry point for most Western businesses. The local people are far more accustomed to our big noses and our hair which surprise, surprise is not always black. Our walk to the Bund on Saturday night shakes me, the crowd so dense and steady that we choose to walk on the road and face the risk of scooters instead of the constant crashing of body against body.

The days have quickly found a distinct pattern. I saw it early in the way the ones going the whole way from Vancouver to St. John’s acted in the morning. They don’t think much, in fact the less you think in the morning the less likely you are to question. Why would you would put your body through such continues pressure day after day. Few speak, I think scared that if they break the spell they’ll simply stay in their little tent and refuse to come out.

Wake early to find our driver has stupidly and stubbornly slept in the taxi because they wouldn’t give him a free room, he hasn’t eaten either. I go to knock on the taxi window but am stopped by another driver who is sucking hard on a sheesha pipe, here try, he mumbles, leave him. I become Arabic and to save face draw on the long flex like a wimp but it’s enough to give me credibility with this guy who was born with four days of stubble on his chin?

Well after all the fun of Northern Sumatra it was a sobering experience to be […]

A mosquito net slung over the bed only lulled me into a false sense of security that my sleep would be restful, the beer, the bites and the jungle chatter had me rising every two hours till the local roosters started their chorus. The hotel is an Eco lodge which was short for open air washing, no hot water and a slow turning fan. Actually it was short for ‘slightly better than sleeping on the ground’.

Then the riders were upon us, whizzing past at over 50 Klms/hr. The crowd all raised an arm in unison to capture the moment on their phone or camera. It was like Hitler was doing a drive by. The crowd was still buzzing minutes later when a great roar surprised everyone, the French airforce did a fly over with plumes of red, blue and yellow for the Tour, steaming from their tails.

The last week has been interesting and the further East I travel the bleaker local life becomes. My romance for Eastern bloc trains is on the wane however there is a certain element of excitement at spilling from a rail carriage usually very early in the morning into a foreign city with sleep still in your eyes. I haven’t been to a European Union railway station that didn’t look like a bomb had just gone off.

The real riding tour starts the next day and Ken made arrangements for a friend to cover until he felt a little better. “He rides ok but he talks a bit.” When we stepped down from our tour truck there was Phil Liggett, the famous Tour De France commentator. He was a great guy and enjoyed our ride so much he joined us again the following morning with his wife. They have a place on the coast near Cape Town and truly enjoy the life style here. In a few weeks he will start his year’s calling of all of the big bike rides.

Surely twenty years hasn’t slipped past since I was last in Egypt. I still recall […]

I try to remember the etiquette, strip off, scrub like your mother would, rince….twice, and then ease into the spa preferably with a wet towel on your head and eyes straight ahead. The spa will gurgle and carry on as the excess water leaves the tub, more if you are big bugger. Now look serene. I scare the poor Japanese guy into next week with my entry, he’s the size of a thirteen year old and as pale as a new moon.